Hand Holding Is Encouraged
by BrokeTacos
Summary: AU: Beca enrolled into the army when she was 18 but after a traumatic event she was granted an honorable discharge. Will she be able to cope with life as a regular citizen or will her past continue to haunt her?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Throughout this story there will be triggers to a variety of things including; Self-harm, mental illness and violence. If you're easily triggered I wouldn't recommend reading this.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Pitch Perfect, all rights go to their respective owners.

* * *

"C'mon dude, just give me a chance," Beca pleaded.

"Look kid, your mixes are great and all but you're only twenty with no working experience," the club owner explained, "you're just not what we're looking for. Perhaps you could try Digital."

Beca was gobsmacked at the audacity the club owner had. Her mixes would never be played at somewhere like _Digital_. She'd sooner be on the streets than allow herself into an all ages club.

"Please, just give me one gig and I'll show you," she pushed.

"Begging isn't going to get you anywhere in this city, kid. This business is cut-throat, and you need to open your eyes." The man could see the want within the young DJ. He knew that he was crushing a dream, and whilst he had a heart, he also had a business. In his line of work, business would always be the top priority, and the fact was that a DJ that was too young to drink simply wouldn't appeal to his market. He had expected her to move from his office the second he said no, but she persisted. And she still didn't seem like she was going to budge. Sighing, he knew he had to be harsh.

"I can't do anything more for you, maybe come back in a year or two with experience. Now, I have a meeting to prepare for so you can either get out of my office or I will call security to escort you out," he gestured towards the heavy wood door, refusing to make eye contact. Refusing to see the damage he'd been the cause of.

Beca stayed frozen on his plush leather couch, unable to move from the pain of rejection. She continued to look at him, she needed him to see the passion she had for music. No amount of longing stares or sleeve fidgets seemed to be changing his mind. Defeated, she mumbled "Thanks" before shuffling out of his office. Her boots pounded against the wooden flooring of the club, each sound made her think more and more of the failure she had become. Her incoherent muttering about how she'd never stoop so low to play at digital was soon interrupted by the stony stare of the bouncer ahead. _I bet he knows what a failure I am. God Beca, why do you have to be so stupid? He's looking at me funny, I bet he thinks I'm a total loser. I'm surprised I wasn't kicked out of here sooner. I don't fit in here, what the hell was I thinking? I don't fit in anywhere. Now he's looking at me weird. He probably thinks I'm going to rob the place_. _I hope he can't see the knife I have concealed. I bet he can. That's why he's looking at me like that._ Beca's mind was in overdrive. For the life of her, she could never control her thoughts but lately it had been a problem. Just as she was planning on how to take down the heavy built 6ft-something man, he held out his hand waiting for it to be acknowledged by the young girl. She stretched out her shorter arms to meet his firm grip.

"Pleasure to be in your company ma'am. Thank you for serving our country."

The brunette quickly shook his hand and darted towards the door, only to be met with the foggy air of downtown Los Angeles. She hazily walked towards the car park, eager to leave the establishment. She slumped against the wall a few feet ahead, inhaling deep breaths as she gradually slid further down towards the pavement. She swallowed more and more air, hoping it would fill up her entire existence and push the memories away from her. She buried her head into her hands and dug her fingernails deep into her scalp. It wasn't working. She started digging her nails deeper, breaking the skin. She grasped onto her hair with white knuckles, but nothing was removing the thoughts buried in the deep caverns of her mind. Her body shook uncontrollably as her breathing became more and more shallow. Her eyesight began to fail her, then total blackness, a brand new canvas for the events to be played back to her, and only her. Her mouth suddenly became dry. She could taste something metallic but couldn't focus on what it was. The last straw was her hearing. It started with a high-pitched screech that was followed by a low and numb monotone beep. Beca couldn't help herself, she didn't know what to do. She didn't know what was wrong. But she knew exactly what she was about to re-live.

* * *

_"Firvz, Bavgo – get this one to block C," ordered a man with a thick Iraqi accent._

_"How much is this one worth, sir?" asked Bavgo as he fumbled with the cell keys._

_"None of your business. Your only business in this is to make sure she doesn't die down there, understood?" _

_Those were the last words Beca heard before she fell to the floor, screaming in agony at the sharp pain she unexpectedly felt in the back of her head. She didn't wake up until the following day, or at least that's what it seemed like down there. She couldn't see anything but could feel her arm was heavily weighted down and there was a flimsy material covering her face. Unaware of her surroundings she groaned, "Somebody help me. Please somebody help."_

_"Oh child, nobody can help you here. But you can help us," the leader smirked. __Beca instantly recognised his voice, it was the same man from before. _

_"Who are you?" Beca asked, hoping it was some sick prank that the guys in her barracks had pulled on her. Hoping it was a nightmare she'd never have to re-live. Grasping onto the hope that it wasn't reality._

_"I was just about to ask you that," he said, cocking his gun in preparation._

_Beca audibly gulped at the sound of her fate. She was unsure how to answer him and hesitated for too long, infuriating the leader. He ripped the sheer material from her head and pulled his dagger out from the holder sitting on his waist. Beca couldn't see anything but grey clouds, her eyes still adjusting to the sudden change in scenery. Her vision started clearing. She was in a small and dirty room, a metal desk in one corner and a bucket in the other. Her focus zoomed in on the man in front of her. He began taunting her with it, demonstrating how he'd stab her. When she no longer seemed fazed by his attempts, he affectionately started to stroke her face with the cool metal weapon. Beca held her breath as he leaned towards her, holding contact with the dagger. She tried to avoid eye contact but he forced her to stare deep into his eyes. She saw nothing, no affection, no regret or love and no memories. Nothing at all but the reflection of her terrified face staring back at her._

_"Tell me your name and who you work for," he whispered, hot breath tickling the shell of her ear._

_His words ripped apart her vocal chords; she had no choice but to remain silent. She wanted to tell him, but the fear of her answer not being correct silenced her. She wasn't given the chance to explain, to try and reason with him. The next thing she saw was a glint of silver being thrust into her face, and then expertly being plunged into her lower thigh. He swiftly removed the weapon, a sick grin plastered on his face. He looked back at the girl. No reaction. She had a perfectly trained straight face. Her eyes glazed over, looking straight ahead. Purposefully avoiding his taunts and the blood seeping from her uniform._

_The lack of reaction just spurred the man to torture her more. He lived for this. To see the weak squirm and the strong crumble. Dagger in hand, he carefully wiped it across her face, making sure to swipe every area. He trailed the blood into her hair, knowing it would leave a smell she would never be able to escape. The look on her face told him everything. She now knew what he was capable of, and she would obey him._

_He securely tucked the dagger back into its holder, a deep chuckle escaping him as he walked towards the door. Pivoting on the balls of his feet, he faced Beca and sneered, "You may call me Dariush and from now on, you will obey my commands."_

_"And you can call me Private fucking Mitchell," Beca spat._

* * *

"Miss, miss. Miss, are you there?"

Beca could feel her body being gently shaken, but couldn't bring herself to open her eyes, scared of what might greet her.

"Hello? Miss, please wake up."

Beca slowly opened her right eye, careful to scan her surroundings before the potential attacker. Instead of being met with a dimly lit room and dirty floors, her eyes met with those belonging to a complete stranger. She sat up and hazily brushed the gravel from her cheek and tried to focus on the stranger in-front of her.

"Sorry I didn't mean to startle you," he stuttered, pulling away his hand from her shoulder. "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"Yeah I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," the stranger chuckled.

Beca squinted her eyes at the statement, unsure of what he was implying. He looked friendly enough, the tight blue striped t-shirt he was sporting and his unruly curly hair were a slight giveaway. Noticing the odd look adorning the female's features, he decided to do some damage control.

"Sorry I didn't mean to offend you, it's just that you have a little something, like blood or something on your, just over there," he babbled, pointing towards her lip.

She shook her head and tried to stand up but with the weight of her memories pressing her down, she could only muster the strength to kneel. All she wanted to do was avoid this situation and go home, but now not even her body would obey her.

"Hey man, do you think you could give me a hand up?"

He looked dumbfounded at the request, as if he was expecting an explanation from the girl.  
"Just I'm diabetic and must've passed out. Low blood sugar and all," Beca lied, hoping it was enough.

The young man rose to his feet and hooked his arms around her torso. As he lifted her up, Beca struggled to find her footing and leant on the taller man. Removing herself from his body she explained, "Sorry, I'm just a little dizzy."

"Not a problem," he beamed. "I'm Benji, it's really nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you to, thanks for all of the help."

"My pleasure, I'm just glad you're okay. Listen, if you're ever in the neighbourhood and feel unwell, just pop into my store and I'll get you sorted."

"Nice marketing technique there," Beca jokingly grimaced.

"Oh no, please don't think of it like that. I'm just trying to be friendly and I don't-"

Beca cut him off, "Dude, I was kidding. Don't sweat."

"Oh. Well my store is just that one over there," Benji pointed towards a brightly decorated magic store, "and I'll make sure to give you some chocolate if you ever visit."

"Chocolate?" Beca questioned.

"Yeah for your sugar levels, we don't want another fainting episode."

"Yes, yes of course," she impatiently shuffled her feet, waiting for the man to excuse himself. After a near minute of awkward silence, she thought it would be best to be the first to leave. "Look dude, I've gotta run but I really appreciate the help and will make sure to stop by some time.

"Okie doke, I'll see you later umm…sorry I didn't catch your name."

Beca stopped dead in her tracks at his statement. She briskly walked towards her car, just managing to croak out a response, "Beca Mitchell, just Beca Mitchell."


	2. Chapter 2

Blur after blur of solid colours sped past Beca, her focus was anywhere but the road ahead. Red, red, blue, silver, black, red – all gone within the blink of an eye. Her thought process suddenly terminated as a red light illuminated the road. Peace. It was simple and pure bliss. There was no over-thinking, no negative thoughts, just nothing. The lights suddenly changed, and Beca's mind was back to creating erratic philosophies. She soon pulled into a run-down apartment complex and nonchalantly exited her car. She briefly contemplated the worth of her life as she passed a group of troublemakers. By the looks of it one was showing in detail how to successfully stab a person. _This complex just gets better and better,_ she thought.

Beca routinely walked past the wall of graffiti on her building, just before the stairwell. As she was lumbering up the stairs, she was stopped by the sounds of a feminine scream and a crash. Beca's old and brave ways suddenly returned to her. She bound up the stairs two at a time, trying to locate the level the scream came from. She hit floor 4, her floor, and another noise pierced her perception. Whoever she was, she was on this floor. She glided through the corridor, making sure to keep her footing light and fast. Another scream, at least they didn't seem to become more desperate, she probably wasn't in grave danger. Beca was trying to decide what room she would enter first, each with there own reasoning. Her roommate Stacie shouldn't be home, and Beca couldn't help but think it could be her in trouble if she'd returned earlier than expected. Running through the corridor and bolting into the door, she grasped onto her pocketknife as her saviour. Her rapid gaze fell upon the soft features of her roommate, Jesse. Upon noticing the door being swung open, he instantaneously raised his head to be met with the startled expression of the tiny brunette.

"Beca, what's wrong?"

"I thought I heard screaming," Beca panted, still worried about the fate of her neighbour.

"Yeah, you did," Jesse said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Stacie brought a client home again."

Beca shuffled towards her room. The events of the day were just starting to catch up with her, and she was already mentally exhausted. Just as she began to turn her door handle, she was stopped by the sombre tone of Jesse's voice.

"We need to talk."

* * *

"So you're just going to leave me?" Beca said, fidgeting with the sleeves of her jacket.

"Don't think of it as leaving," Jesse explained, "Think of it as me starting my adventure."

"Yeah, an adventure without me," scoffed the DJ.

"Beca, you've got to see this from my point of view. I have a real job, I've just received a promotion and I can't continue living in this roach-infested crack den!"

The brunette's mind slowly blanked, she was completely disassociating herself from the conversation. She slowly stood up from the couch.

"All right," she said, dragging her feet towards her room.

"All right? All right? That's seriously all you have to say? Not a congratulations or 'Hey, I'm gonna miss you buddy!' Just all right?" Jesse shouted, leaping up to block her path.

"Well I wouldn't want to hinder your chances of a future," she replied, completely monotone.

"Don't you dare even think that." Jesse placed his hands underneath her jaw and tilted her face to meet his. "I'll always be your friend, I just need to advance in this world a little. When you get the right job you'll understand.

"I get it," she said, pushing past the boy and entering her room, swiftly locking the door.

"Beca, Beca c'mon, open up!" he yelled, banging on the door.

The DJ calmly walked over to her desk, picked up her headphones and opened her laptop. There it was again, peace. The first few chords of the first song she played gave her peace. The rest of the song was just there to drown out all noises from outside her personal bubble. She brought her laptop over to her bed and remained in the foetal position for over three hours, the same playlist of 13 songs on repeat.

In those three hours, she received no phone calls, no Skype alerts and no text messages. Nobody cared. This didn't particularly bother her; she certainly wasn't an easy person to care for as she didn't care for herself or her well-being. She simply existed for the sake of others.

She glanced at her bedside cabinet, then back at her desk, memory fazed. She buried her head in the first draw of her cabinet, then the second. Nothing. She leapt up to check the first draw in her desk. Pulling it out entirely, she clambered around the empty wooden casing until she finally found what she was looking for. She emptied the contents of the bag onto the wooden surface in front of her and sighed. _Only one pill left. Here's to another restless night, just what I need,_ she thought.

She slumped back into bed and dry swallowed the small blue section of serenity and hoped for the best. She was too exhausted to change from her combats and plaid shirt, even though she knew they wouldn't be comfortable for her.

Her eyes were heavy, but her mind was restless. She lay awake for hours, only moving to periodically toss and turn, desperately trying to find physical comfort in all of the bleak that surrounded her. Then something changed. She felt as if she was floating, sweeping through the dark thoughts clouding her very existence. She was finally at peace again and whether the feeling last mere seconds or hours, she was content. Then, just like that, an ear piercing sound rippled through the silence, destroying what had been, leaving no room for further progress. Beca rolled out of bed and hit the floor, staying low she managed to crawl towards the window to inspect the damage. No glass. No shell casing. No point of entry. The bullet never entered her room, but it didn't mean it was never fired.

She crawled over to her door and hurriedly threw on her boots, making sure to jump up and grab the knife on her dresser before she left. The brunette ran through the everlasting hallway, each item of décor a milestone for her. She stopped dead in her tracks as she realised she wasn't in her apartment building, it couldn't be. It had blurred from the nicotine stained wallpaper to sand coloured walls, and she wasn't sure how. She crept towards what seemed to be the exit, but the hallway became darker and more narrow the further she travelled. She'd ran through this passageway before. She looked all around her for signs of an explanation, but nothing was there to provide one. She grazed her hands along the rough surface coating the walls, but no memories appeared. She carried on touching the walls, hoping something, _anything,_ would come back to her. Just as she started to piece together little parts she was stopped by a sharp pain in her thigh. She buckled over to inspect the damage, but nothing was there.

She limped forward, trying to move as fast as her weakened legs would take her, and then she noticed the stairwell. It was blocked by rubble, but she powered through it and as if she had passed a checkpoint, she no longer felt the pain.

Beca sprinted down the stairs, she was fast becoming tired but she had to help. It was all she could do. She leapt from the middle of the last staircase and landed at the bottom making minimal noise, something she was trained in. The ex-solider snuck around the corner and made sure to check for any potential long-range suspects. Nothing. She moved past the familiar wall of graffiti but was sidetracked by the scraping sound coming from the pavements. Beca's head darted from side to side, hoping to catch the offender, but soon realised she'd been the cause of it. She inspected the object beneath her. A Glock-19 handgun. She'd just kicked a loaded gun. – _Odd, I've never seen one of these used around her, too professional for the likes of this neighbourhood. _Her inner detective was interrupted by a recognizable crack as it resounded the landscape. She dropped to the floor once again and looked for somewhere to hide. As she was in cover she noticed a dark shadow run across the parking lot ahead. As the figure ran under the streetlamp, something clicked. She knew him.

Her brain could no longer function, she was thinking too much. She went blank, and then back into overdrive. She thought about the thousands of faces she'd ever encountered, hoping one would trigger a memory. She just couldn't pinpoint the man. She saw flashes, then the desert, then blackness. More flashes and then an empty shipping container. A migraine formed as she replayed her life back, but she knew she was getting closer and she couldn't give up now. The opening of the shipping container, she could hear his voice. She could feel his grasp around her neck. She couldn't catch her breathe, it was all becoming too much. Then complete darkness.


End file.
